


Diss-lecks-ick?

by Caliras



Series: Dyslexic Stan [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Stan, Hopeful Ending, Sad Grunkle Stan, Self-Hatred, Stan is dyslexic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 01:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliras/pseuds/Caliras
Summary: Stan goes grocery shopping, and Dipper asks him something he's not sure about.





	Diss-lecks-ick?

Rubbing his temples, he tried once more to read the curling words on the page. It was just a grocery list Ford wrote down. A grocery list! He could do this, it wasn’t the journals with cryptic words that lept off pages. Just normal, everyday groceries. He wasn’t an idiot, no matter how many times people insisted. He wasn’t. Probably. Alright, fine, he was, but this was just a grocery list. He’d already gotten the eggs, bread, and flour. Okay, fine, that was his stuff, but he got this. Ugh. This is why it took thirty years to get his brother back, he can’t even read a stupid grocery list right.

Sucking it up, he turned to a friendly-looking shopper, “Hey, I, uh, I left my reading glasses at home, would you mind reading off this list?”

“Sure! Leaving glasses at home sucks,” They respond pleasantly, pulling out bright pink glasses, “Alright, it says bleach, hydrogen peroxide…“

They continued to read out the lengthy list as Stan committed each one to memory, wondering why his brother needed so many chemicals. The stranger didn’t think twice about it though, and finished the list off, either not caring or not judging.

“Should I come with in case you forget something?” They asked kindly.

“Nah, thank you though, I’ve got it now,” Not to mention he was probably going to steal all of it anyway, which would end up with someone else disappointed in him.

Simply nodding, they waved and once more trailed down the isles. Stan hoped they lead a good life, they were the polar opposite of him. They deserved it. Carrying himself down the isles, he picked up the items, working off colors instead of words. Sometimes he had to read them, but he mostly was able to get by with labels or shapes. Finished gathering Ford’s stuff, he once more ran through the mental list before breaking out in a run out of the store. Familiar alarms went off as he dashed out the store, hopped into his car, and took off.

He made complicated turns and twists though the town, in a pattern almost no-one could follow. It wasn’t his first time ditching the cops, but the officers at Gravity Falls made it all too easy to give them the slip. Ending up back at the shack, he grabbed the loose items, careful not to drop anything. Struggling up to the shack, he lifted his leg up to “knock” at the door. The door opened up slowly, revealing Dipper, who took one look at the bounty in his arms, shrugged, opened the door wider and stepped aside. He was so proud of his young partner in crime.

Dumping the pile on the table, he took out his groceries, putting them in their places. He managed to not crack a single egg? Nice. Sweeping the rest into his arms, he made his way downstairs. His heart dropped every step down, protective walls coming up and making it heavy. Walking into the elevator, he stood patiently, feeling a lump in his chest as his heart finished dropping. Sauntering out of the elevator, he put on a mask. His act was his mask, the world was a stage, right? Spotting his brother hunched over equipment, he set the chemicals down and called out to him.

“Ford! I got your nerd stuff here.”

“Thank you Stan,” His twin said offhandedly, focused on his project.

Huh. So he’ll say thanks for this, but not risking everything to bring him back. Fine. It wasn’t as if he spent years living out nightmares that consumed him, the worst being his brother gone forever. That’s a lie. He already lived out his nightmare, still lived it out. His brother couldn’t care less about him, blamed him. Still, Stan was an excellent actor, showing only what was needed.

“Sure thing.” It was fine.

~~~~~~~~~

Later at dinner, Stan was “reading” a newspaper, trying to make head or tails of letters that jumped without rhyme or rhythm. It was easier than reading his brothers journal, but it was still difficult. Dipper kept glancing at him oddly, but Stan ignored it in favor of sipping his coffee. Ford was in the kitchen, something that worried Stan to no end, last time the fridge had shot him! It was nothing serious, but it made him demand that there wasn’t any more building in the kitchen. Mabel sat down, tilting her head to a beat from a song she picked up recently while she updated her scrapbook.

“Grunkle Stan?” Dipper asked hesitantly, eyes glued on the table.

Finally he had spoke, Stan was beginning to get worried, “Yes?”

“Are you-” He trailed off before looking Stan in the eye, “Are you dyslexic?”

That- that’s not what he was expecting, though… “What’s diss-lecks-ick?” He questioned, genuinely curious.

Ford looked like he’d been shot. Stan should know, he didn’t have the small spider web pattern on his lower back for nothing. He’d been smuggling items when he was double-crossed and was shot. He had managed to catch a glimpse of himself in a broken, filthy window next to him. Sometimes he found himself comparing himself to the window. Stan rarely won.

“It’s like… it’s almost… it’s when words or letters scramble, shift, or blur together. Dyslexia is a learning disability that no-one can control.” He paused before looking down again, “I’m sorry if it’s personal or something, it’s just that you seemed to have difficulties reading or writing and I was just curious...”

He was dumbfounded. Dipper just told him that there was a word for what he probably had. Was it- was this not normal? Was he having troubles simply because of something he couldn’t control? That- that didn’t seem right, wasn’t he just an idiot?

“I- uh, um I- I think so? Words do jump around on the pages, but isn’t that what everyone sees though?” He asked nervously, not knowing what answer he was looking for.

For a moment, they looked at him in silence. He’d messed up again, hadn’t he? He wanted to crawl back into his room.

“Nope! One of my friends back home has it, and when she explained it, it sounded really difficult!” Mabel added, looking at Stan brightly.

Oh. He sat back in his chair, dropping the newspaper on the table. Was he really dyslexic? He thought about words that jumped on the paper, playing tag with his eyes. He thought about report cards in school that proclaimed him impossible to teach. He thought about his dad refusing to buy him glasses until he brought his grades up, calling him stupid. Was that really dyslexia?

“May- maybe. Words move around on the pages, and it’s difficult to read them.” He felt oddly exposed, he couldn't remember the last time he told someone he could barely read.

“Stan… has it always been this way?” His brother sounded weirdly heartbroken.

“Yeah, far as I can remember.”

Silence fell over the table briefly, before Stan picked up the newspaper. He felt uncomfortable. When he told his father he couldn’t read, he was almost kicked out. Ford said he would kick him out a few weeks, and while that seemed to have been just out of anger, he was afraid that he really would now.

“Wait, how’d you get everything I needed? Did you read those?” Ford sounded confused and curious now.

“Nah, someone read it for me, so I could memorize it.” Stan wanted to squirm in his seat, he did **_not_** want to admit he couldn’t even read a grocery list.

“Stan, there was thirty things I wanted, you remembered all of them?”

“Yes?”

How else would he have done it? He remembered all of them still, in fact. It would fade over the next day or two, but this was how he read the journal. He memorized every page, so he didn’t have to read it again. This was also why he didn’t read the warnings, he was impatient to get his brother back. Eh, he would've done it anyway.

“Hey Grunkle Stan!” Mabel interrupted, “We should get you checked out for it! Maybe you can read better with help!”

That… that was the last thing he wanted, but with Mabel beaming hopefully at him, he couldn’t resist, “Alright, alright, I’ll go see someone.”

“Great! Boop!”

She'd stuck a sticker that said, “You got this” on his cheek, not that Stan could read it.


End file.
